The frequently inane ramblings of one who isn't always right, but is never actually wrong, either. Topics included might be political, theological, gastronomical, sexual, or even motorcycle-related. All I can guarantee is that ... on second thought, if you want a guarantee, go buy a bloody toaster, and leave me alone!

About Me

Friday, May 30, 2014

The horrific events at Isla Vista hit me particularly hard,
albeit probably not for the reasons they should have. My brief visits to that
college community left me with an idyllic sense of peacefulness and joy. The
time, on my first visit, spent with my best, lifelong friend and his lady. The
relaxed pace of the town (at least in the early ‘70s). The sense of freedom on
another visit as I scrambled down the paths to the water, pulling my clothes
off as I ran, only to be joined by joyously friendly college students, who were
thankfully unaware that I was a member of the reviled military. These were
sweet memories, a detailed picture in my mind. But now, the images are
bloodied. Isla Vista has, in my mind, become part of a brutal world, tainted by
something that my nostalgic memories cannot abide.

Looking at my initial reaction, I have to recognize and
admit how profoundly shallow it is, particularly in the face of the lives
ended. But what of the collateral damage, the lives permanently scarred, in
Isla Vista and beyond? Sadly, the scars aren’t merely the result of one brutal
attack, an attack that is but a footnote on a tome beyond measure. The greater
story is one that is lived out by every woman, yet denied, dismissed, or
distracted by most males. It is the legacy of misogyny that pervades every
culture, and that has done so for time beyond measure or memory.

Looking just a bit below the surface, I observe my own lifelong
behavior and attitudes, and have to be honest with myself and admit that I have
been and to an extent continue to be part of the problem. Through the course of
my life, when I looked at a female, my immediate internal reaction has been to
view her according to her value in my own life, not as an equal, but as an
accessory, a possession. My initial evaluation had little to do with whether
she might provide intellectual stimulation or challenge my emotional
limitations. I’d look at her and immediately size her up as a potential sexual
partner, as something to elevate my esteem in others’ eyes, or even as a
vehicle to assist me in reaching some goal I had set for myself.

There have been women in my life who have transcended that
evaluation, but even they had to pass a certain set of criteria in order to be
considered worthy of the time it would take to discover their more esoteric
qualities. And I am ashamed to say that there have been any number of remarkable
women whom I’ve encountered and walked away from, simply because they weren’t
pretty enough, were too fat, didn’t find me charming, or in some other way, didn’t
“fit the part.”

Does that make me a misogynist? An abuser of women? I think
it goes deeper than that. It makes me an abuser of not only women, but of my
own humanity. In the course of my “disqualification process,” I have hurt some
women, and left them feeling less interesting, less intelligent, less
attractive, and ultimately, less worthy. That I felt – in varying degrees – a
sense of guilt, of shame, and of unworthiness myself as a result of my behavior
is ultimately my one saving grace. Had I not felt that guilt and shame, I would
have been a sociopath, rather than just an asshole. Asshole, I can live with
(under the right circumstances, anyway). Sociopath, I cannot. I have to believe
that there is kindness in me, beyond any selfish motive. Missing that kindness,
I would be less than human, the very thing I so despise.

Sure, I became incensed when I worked on a book that described
firsthand the horrors that women in Muslim countries routinely experience –
having acid thrown in their face by their own fathers for merely looking at a
man, being set afire simply for speaking their mind, being killed for the crime
of not accepting a marriage proposal. But these were a world away, and nothing
like we have here in our “civilized” country. At least, not until we look at attractive
women being shot because a man – to stretch the term – hadn’t been able to
convince any other women to have sex
with him. Or at the many comments posted in sympathy for his pain. It is here.
Everywhere. And it always has been.

The dialog that has arisen from this latest tragedy has
forced me to look honestly – perhaps for the first time – at how insidious the
objectification of women really is. Perhaps the most powerful information I’ve
gotten was from a blog post that told us men to just shut up and listen,
something I’ve rarely been known to do. But when I did finally listen, I was
literally pummeled by a truth that I had never heard, much less, considered. It
was both the truth of what women – all women – experience, and the illusion
with which we men respond to that truth.

#YesAllWomen versus #NotAllMen

Every woman, no matter where she lives, has felt objectified
by men. And while I had known this intellectually for a long time, it never
really sunk in until recently. Women, because of their own personal experiences,
have to view men in the same way most people view snakes. Until they’ve seen
enough to identify a specific one, they have to assume it is venomous. Why?
Because they or someone they know has had an encounter with a guy who seems
nice, interesting, and normal, but ultimately ends up being abusive,
controlling, condescending, and possibly even violent. Statistics say that one
in four women will be the victim of a sexual assault in their lives. One in
four. How many men would rush to pick up a snake they didn’t recognize if they
knew that one in four of them would get bitten?

Another analogy that’s been going around the last couple of
days (probably much longer, but I’m new at looking at this, remember?)
describes a bowl of M&Ms™, where ten percent of the candies are poisonous.
How eager would you be, knowing this, to grab a handful and partake? The most
frequent male response to the analogy has been to deny that the percentage of
abusive men is much lower than ten percent, and that they (the responders) aren’t
abusive in any way. Okay, let’s drop the percentage of poisoned M&Ms /
abusive males to .1 percent – one in a thousand. Only one candy contains deadly
poison, and one guy in a very crowded club is potentially abusive (and that is
giving us guys a bigger benefit of the doubt than our behavior would warrant). Would
it make sense to go ahead and grab a handful of M&Ms and chow down, or for
a woman to take the guy who approaches her at face value? Think about it.

To make it as simple as possible, imagine as a man, walking
alone at night, and seeing a group of women approaching. Our normal first
response is to check the women out, see which of them we find most attractive,
and perhaps consider what our chances are of having a relationship – even a
brief sexual relationship – with the hottest one. Our very first reaction is to
assess an opportunity. If it feels
right, or if one of them acknowledges or smiles at us, we might make small talk
– any overture to enhance that opportunity.

Now, imagine being a woman, also walking alone at night, and
seeing a group of men approaching. The first response is to assess the group,
but for a wholly different reason than opportunity. Do any of them look threatening, angry, or,
for that matter, too interested? Will I be whistled and cat-called at? Will I be
grabbed as I try to pass, raped and left for dead, or worse, murdered? Each
reaction is very real, and each is justified by our own previous experience.
There is very little chance that a group of women will attack – much less, rape
and kill – a man, but in the women’s experience, there is a very real likelihood
of her fears being realized. Women are aware of the reality, and we men need to
be aware, as well.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve heard guys try to argue
the statistics of misogynistic behavior, as if those statistics could somehow
disprove what every woman on earth has experienced and continues to experience.
They try to reassure women that they’re “different,” and that there is no
reason to lump them in with “a few bad apples.” What they fail to realize is
that by attempting to dismiss women’s experiences, they actually promote and
protect those “bad apples,” and by extension, join forces with them. Perhaps
the guys would do well to understand that a misogynist would not be likely to
identify himself as one. He’d do his best to appear charming, endearing, and
entertaining, at least until he had the woman in the position he desired, or
realized she wasn’t going to go along with his idea of a “relationship.” And we
saw, all to graphically, how the latter scenario can – and too often does – play
out.

It’s not who we men are, it’s what we do.

The one, we can’t change. The other, we can and must.

And no excuses are acceptable.

I was raised primarily by my mother, who was by any measure
a strong and independent woman. She demanded my respect, as well as that of
everyone she encountered, and God help the person who failed to show her that
respect. Looking back, however, I have to acknowledge that she was born into –
and on some levels, accepted and unknowingly perpetuated – the age-old notion
that a woman’s “place” was supposed to be subservient to a man’s, and I suspect
that on some level, she resented the fact that she was required to be the
dominant partner in her own marriage. Her (perhaps unconscious) acceptance of
“a woman’s place” was manifest in many ways, some so subtle as to be easily
overlooked, at least by myself, and I suspect by society at large.

For example, I lived under a very different set of rules than
did my older sister. My mother accepted my smoking cigarettes for years before my
sister was allowed to smoke. I cannot remember ever washing dishes after a
meal, while my sister did so quite frequently. Neither can I remember my sister
ever being expected to do yard work. It was a “man’s job.” Even in our
schooling, my sister was pressured by expectations that I never really felt. As
a result, she strove to do well, while I coasted all the way through high
school, completely apathetic about my education.

I can remember going out to dinner with Mom, and her
discretely passing money under the table, so I could be the one to pay. Her
gesture meant a lot to me when I was young and poor, but I grew uncomfortable
with it as I matured (if indeed I have ever done so). Looking back, I can’t
help but wonder whether the gesture was as important to her as she felt it was
to me; that she would have preferred to be in a more traditional “woman’s” position.

Just to be clear, I in no way blame my mother or any other
woman for the misogyny that is so pervasive in this and so many other cultures.
Only to acknowledge how, even with the best of intentions, she may have
perpetuated a mindset that was fertile ground, and in which insecure and
frightened little boys learn to embrace and twist “traditional” roles into
justification for dismissal, objectification, and abuse of women.

But in the final analysis, I don’t give a damn how we men got to where we are, because
that is not the issue. The issue is not what we are, what kind of environment
we lived in, or any other factor that we might cling to in our attempt to
explain, justify, or defend what we do or explain how “we’re different.” All
that matters is what we are doing now, and what we choose to do in the future.
And the best – no, the only – way we can make a good choice is to begin by shuttingup and listening. Really listening to what women have known for
thousands of years, but have been too frightened to discuss. If we’re trying to
explain or defend our own behavior, or to insist that we be judged by who we
are, independent of and vastly different from “those other guys,” we are
missing the point altogether. We are denying a pervasive reality, simply
because we haven’t experienced it ourselves. By doing that, we allow that ugly reality
a safe place to continue. We are the problem, until we make and follow through
on the decision, not to make some grand gesture, but simply to change how we
look at women and how we behave toward them. And just as importantly, to
clearly express our disapproval when we see others behaving badly, because a
person who is weak enough to need to dominate women will always look to other
males for support. Only when that support is denied, and the behavior clearly
rejected, will there be any possibility that the abuser will look at and
possibly try to change his behavior.

We are the problem, and always have been. Not the only
problem, and not every problem, but we are this
problem. And now, we have two very clear choices: we can either choose to continue
to be part of the problem, or choose to be part of the solution. To shut up and
listen. To empathize without trying to defend. To recognize the women we
encounter as humans every bit as intelligent, complex, and worthy as we would
like to think we are ourselves. And to recognize and acknowledge that what they
have experienced is every bit as real and valid as our own experiences. If we
can manage to do these simple things, we will discover a richness in our
relationships that soars beyond our wildest imaginings. If we don’t, “the
bitches” will just keep on “playing with our heads” and rejecting us. We get to
choose. And we will make that choice, every day, every hour, and every moment
of our lives. We’ll choose badly at times, but we will have the opportunity to
choose well the next time. We have to try, for the women’s sake and for our
own.

Copyright 2007-2010 by Ron Kaye.
All rights reserved. Except for material used in accordance with fair use guidelines, this blog may not be reproduced in any form, by any technological means, without the express written consent of Ron Kaye.